The Lap Dog of Saints
by Gamerof1458
Summary: When a young man is thrust into the middle of the conflict of Stilwater, he'll have to go through hell and back for the infamous Third Street Saints. Born, raised, and living a life of adventure, the enemies of the Saints won't know what to expect when this mysterious nobody comes into the picture and decides Julius is his new boss. Expect a few major changes.
1. Chapter 1

Wrong time, wrong place.

How many times have I ever heard these words in the way they're being used now?

Countless times actually and from many sources.

Movies, books, video games, hell even from the wannabe punks on the street corner.

But could I ever imagine having those words directed at _me?_

Never. Nada. Zilch. Not in a lifetime. When hell freezes over.

And yet here I am, lying on the cold street as some gangster wearing white and yellow aims a gun straight at my head.

_000-000-000_

_Black hair trimmed and shaved to a buzz. Eyes squeezed so narrow and together he couldn't be anything but Chinese. The five o'clock shadow as because his shitty home had no real bathroom._

_000-000-000_

It's funny really. After the messed up life I had, I feel almost _**robbed**_ to die so...normally.

_000-000-000_

_It was supposed to be simple. A quick jog to the store and back. _

_000-000-000_

My life flashes before my eyes, It already seems full of adventure and experiences for one lifetime but that doesn't change the fact that _I don't want to die!_

Well, looks like my would be killer is done letting me muse in the past. The gangster pulls the hammer down on his glock.

I've seen and experienced death before. Even dealt it out on a daily basis sometimes. I always found a morbid way of trying to justify my kill, to try and make myself feel better.

_000-000-000_

_No one dangerous was supposed to be out. No one who could kill._

_000-000-000_

Those who die with a relieved look on their face tells a story of letting go, of finally being done with life and happy to just...leave.

Others look shocked, like they didn't except their last moments to be spent gunned down by an enemy.

The final type in my book, a true rarity in my opinion, is those who can die staring death in the face.

When the man levels his gun at my head, I can only stare up at him for three seconds before my eyes closed. I felt both relief and shock somehow. Funny, two for three isn't bad in my opinion.

_000-000-000_

_I don't want to die! Not yet! I still haven't done everything I wanted, I still have accomplished my DREAM!_

_000-000-000_

*CRACK*

...I wonder if all people who die feel some huge explosive amount of pain before passing or do they just wake up in their form of purgatory with the knowledge that they no longer felt any hurt?

"You okay playa?"

Or maybe I'm still alive thanks to a newcomer.

I snap open my eyes and stare at the man before me. Black, older than the punk that just got wasted, dressed way better than most but not enough into 'fancy' territory and has the voice of a freaking deep angel.

"Julius, let's move," Huh, looks like I was a bit quick to praise. The guy with this Julius fellow is the one who saved me, "It's not safe out here."

Well, if he answers to Julius, then that means Julius gave the order to save me right? I'm torn from my thoughts when the man offers me his shoulder and the three of us scuttle away from the flaming wreckage of the Los Carnales car. Just when we reach a safe distance, the vehicle finally blows up.

"That doesn't look so bad, you should be fine," Julius said, inspecting my leg. A small rivet of blood was cascading down from around my knee and darkening my dark blue jeans but like Julius said it wasn't that bad. In fact, I had worst.

"That's Troy," Julius gestured to the guy with him, "You can thank him later."

"Hey," Troy acknowledged with a nod of his head before he went back to acting as a lookout.

I wanted to say something, anything back but I couldn't. Not since I was twelve at least. A combination of a freak accident and my own bad luck cost me my vocal cords. A long curvy scar that extends diagonally on my throat is proof of that.

Thankfully, I had another way of communicating but it wasn't on me.

"The Row ain't safe no more son," Julius continued, voice deep but now with a new tone of seriousness, "We got gangs fightin' over shit that 'aint theirs, and if you get in the way, they don't care if you representin' or not. You're lucky to have gotten outta that fight alive."

"Julius," Troy's incredulous voice interjected, "This isn't the time to be recruiting,"

Julius frowned before shooting a look over his shoulder at Troy, "We're gonna need all the help we can get son,"

"No, what we need is to get our asses out of here, it ain't safe."

"In a minute!" Julius barked before turning back to me, "Look, the Row's got a problem. Come to the church if you want to be a part of the solution."

The two of the gang members disembarked and just before Julius disappeared around the corner, he looked over his shoulder.

"Later playa."

Hmm, playa...that's...different. I've been called many things but never that.

Sighing, I get up on wobbly legs and start the short journey to the place I rented in this messed up city. The wound in my leg clotted already so I didn't have to worry about it much but my body still was reeling from the shock and anxiety that came with being so close to death. Still, I made it home quickly and in one piece.

I quickly glance left and right to ensure there won't be any more nasty surprises for what should have been a simple beer run. The large spacious garage is empty at the moment and my front 'lawn' if you can call it that is filled with littered items like crushed coffee cups, glass shards, and I think I even see an used condom.

Did I also mention the really crappy mail box with the word 'whore' sprayed all over its side?

Pushing open the rickety door (I have got to replace that damn thing) I wander into my meager abode. The interior is no better than the exterior, as evidenced by the peeling wallpaper, dirt caked floors, and even the various broken appliances like the fridge and TV. The living room and kitchen seemed to merge at one point and I highly doubt I would even want a piece of whatever I could possibly cook out of the filthy part of my home.

Suppressing the urge to just flop down onto my equally filthy mattress, I instead wander over to my safe and quickly input my super secret combo. (1-2-3) Yanking the tiny metal door open and wincing at the loud screeching it emits, I calmly flip open my wallet and deposit back the hundred I had on me. I take a quick wise guy count of my current stack of bills and hopefully conclude that my thousand dollars is still exactly one thousand dollars.

Shooting up and going through the motions of a yawn, I yank off the day's shirt and pants and toss 'em into an ever growing pile of dirty clothes before I grab a wrinkled T-shirt and slip it on. I take a quick glance at my leg and grimace at the small wound to the side of my knee. Damn Carnales and their shitty cars.

I fall backwards onto my shitty sleeping place and decide to quickly check my phone before going off into dream land.

...Three missed calls and a message.

Well shit.

I quickly sit up and bring up my call logs before checking the message. Just as I expected, they're all from the family. I try to call each number but no one answers. Sighing, I quickly reread the message my sister took the oh so loving time to send to me.

_Hey shithead, how ya been? Mom and Dad got a bit scared when you didn't respond so they had to tell me to do it. _

_We both know I hate it when I have to do it right? _

_So I'm just telling you this now, you better have a really good FUCKING EXPLANATION for making me waste my time to check up on your unresponsive ass._

_Love, your sister._

_P.S. The Pack wanted to know how their old lap dog has been. Give 'em a call less you want them knocking your ass around for being rude. _

_P.S.S. Get a better apartment/place to stay...and maybe some actual food and beer in that place...no real reason  
_

_P.S.S.S. Keep that .44 Shepard Dad gave you clean all right? Dad says if he finds even a single speck of dirt on it, he'll pistol whip you within an inch of your life before showing you proper gun maintenance.  
_

_P.S.S.S.S. Stop eating out so much or maybe get something healthy. If Mom finds out, which she probably will, you're going to be in deep shit.  
_

Charming, isn't she? Matter of fact, my whole family just gives off love, sunshine, and happiness don't they?

With another frustrated sigh, I quickly type a response back before shutting off my phone. I needed to get some rest and be prepared.

Tomorrow, I had a debt to pay back.


	2. Chapter 2

Julius' speech was inspiration at best, awesome at worst. I can see why he's the leader of this ragtag bunch of purple wearing gangsters.

From big and beefy to small and lanky, you could see a whole plethora of purple flag flying Saints that were ready for war. These people lived in the Row and they were ready to spill blood for it.

Amid a chorus of 'Yeahs', I suddenly noticed a more unique man among the nearly identical group situated outside this church. He had a really horrible haircut(It's like a blind dude cut his hair and then he tried to dye it himself) and sported rectangular shades with a tiny tint of purple. He also had some very prominent tattoos on his neck and seemed to be a fierce and no nonsense type of man.

I can tell just by how he's glaring at me.

"Who the fuck's this guy?"

Aw crap, I suddenly realize that maybe wearing something other than purple might have been bad. About four tough looking guys surround me and crack their knuckles, ready to kick my ass before I could explain myself.

Not that I could...

"Troy and I found him. I was gonna see if he wanted to ride with us," Julius answered curtly.

"Julius, if he wants to run with the Saints, he's gonna have to be canonized first."

"Hey, he's right Julius. Everyone had to go through it," Troy piped up from his position.

I looked around me and then up at Julius who was looking down from atop the church steps.

"You ready for this playa?"

All around me, Saints were working tension out of their necks and fingers and slipping into some loose fighting stances. I took a simple glance around before the corners of my mouth started to slowly twitch upwards. I cracked my knuckles, then my neck, and then slipped off the black jacket I was wearing before settling down into a stance for brawling.

Just for added measure, I uncurled my left fist and motioned for someone, anyone to come over and take me on.

I wasn't disappointed.

The first guy who came at me sneered at my confident swagger and just charged forward. I inhaled slowly as I dodged his first jab at my chest and pushed his swing for my face to the side before ducking low and lashing out with a quick kick. I knocked him to his knees and then uppercutted him straight in the jaw. If he didn't get knocked out, he was at least dazed enough to no longer be a problem. I was beginning to think this was going to be easy until someone lashed out at the back of _MY_ knee and then pulled me into a half-nelson. I couldn't help the gurgling noise but I still remained determined enough that when the offender hefted me up to provide his pal a golden chance at my open chest, I turned the tables on him. When the second attacker got close, I managed to slam my head back into my grappler's nose and get free just in time to do a quick forward flip and kick the second attacker right in the chin. I heard some 'oohs' and 'aahs' from the audience but I didn't act on them. I gave my body a quick burst of strength and actually backflipped over a woman who was aiming for my sternum and grab her by the shoulder and nape before shoving her with enough force to send two of my opponents packing along with her. I thought that was the end of things until three Saints came at me.

Things got blurry after that. I'm pretty sure I got my ass whupped a few times by some of the more trained Saints but in the process, I went and fucked anyone's asses up. Honestly, I was getting jumped by so many people that I actually started to think grabbing, twisting, pulling, hell even biting was going to be 'legal' in this fight.

In the end when the dust had settled and opponents had stopped arriving, I let myself grin one of the biggest shit eating grins ever. My teeth had been rattled, my bones probably cracked, and my flesh bruised and smashed but hell if I didn't give as good as I had.

I was a Saint.

And if any of these bitches wanted to disagree on that, then I'll gladly let them join their friends on the ground.

Of course, my feelings of happiness and elation were offset by how fast the ground seemed to be approaching.

No seriously, someone please catch me before I go and crack my skull against the pavement.

"Hey, take it easy," A familiar voice said as he helped me stay steady, "You've earned your colors today, no doubt."

I believe that was Troy. Just then, another Saint with brown skin and a lopsided purple visor walked up and we bumped fists.

"That was some impressive shit. Haven't seen a dude kick that much since Johnny."

"Shit, took me half the time," Johnny said with a flare of arrogance.

I wanted to say fuck you to him but I had a feeling that I would sooner cough up blood and teeth than form the sound 'f'.

It was then I saw Julius stalk up to me with his usual regal stature and also fist bump me.

"Welcome to the Third Street Saints," He said with a fatherly smile. I tried to return one but I didn't want to flash a mouth full of blood at him. Instead, I nodded and spat to the side.

"Let's get down to business," Julius said, back into leader of the Saints mode. He then went onto a speech about respect and how us purple flag flying gangbangers were going to take back our homes. I did my best to pay attention but one doesn't be both an ass kicker and ass kickee without suffering seriously for it. I did my best to take deep calming and hopefully quiet breaths while Julius finished up.

I had to blink a bunch of times and make sure I wasn't swaying. Wouldn't do well for my rep if I ended collapsing now and I'm pretty sure I had worse before...just not in awhile.

"Hey, newbie," My eyes flew up and looked at Troy, "Uh...you all right?"

I nodded slowly and stood up a bit straighter. Taking a quick glance around, I see that nearly everyone previously here besides Troy had left already.

"...You got a problem talking? I saw you take a pretty heavy shot in the mouth."

I sighed a little before walking over and grabbing my jacket. I fished around in one of the pockets before pulling out my phone and started to furiously text out a message.

"Hey, now's not the time for that. You can tell all your little friends about how great it is to be in a gang later but right now Julius told me to help you get strapped and ready to help out."

I rolled my eyes before I finished with a flourish and then presented my phone to him.

"...Whadda want me to do? Give you my number? Just say so."

I palmed my face before tapping the screen and showing it to him again. This time, his eyes raked over the little message I had texted out and his eyebrows shot up.

"You got into an accident that killed your talking and this is usually how you have a conversation?"

My hand blurred and quickly typed up an answer.

"Huh, that kinda sucks. But at least you're still alive right?"

I nodded before tapping out a new message and showing it to him.

"Right, I'll tell Julius about this later. But right now we got business to conduct so come on."

I nodded my consent and followed Troy out of the graveyard and out into the streets.

Soon, I'll be calling them MY streets.

...Or at least Saint streets...Julius' streets? Hell, I don't fucking know.

-LDoS-

About two to three weeks later, the Row was safely back in the possession of the Saints. I played both a major and minor part in all of the grand scheme of things. I did everything and anything I was asked of. Whether I was to do something simple like kill a pimp and corral his former ho'es to a friend called Will or maybe go around in a group or sometimes even alone to drop some fools who dare tread on my turf.

I even spent some quality time rolling with Troy and Julius. Both men were so far the only people in this entire gang that actually knew about my speech problem. Troy didn't fish for exact details though he looked like he wanted too while Julius just gently slapped me on the shoulder, stared me in the eye and said, "Don't worry, people have commanded respect before without saying a word. You'll be no different."

This man...truly he be 'da boss' of this purple flag flying gang. Shit, I'll feel even better rolling with the rest of the gang if they like these two guys.

Heh, my gang lingo is getting better. Anyways, to sum up my past experiences; I got shot up a few times, had a couple visits to some shady doctors and made a bunch of arms reach friends that I can safely say would be there to have my back. I'm just glad that we finally cleared out the Row and in the end, made sure those damn red, blue, and yellow flag flying fuckers learned their place and never ever again dare to come waltzing around on these streets, all trying to be gangster and shit.

Che, as my former boss used to say.

_"Remember kid, a good tactic to use is simply to shoot first and ask questions later. If they died, then they were bad people."_

Yeah...I had some pretty morally ambiguous employers...hell, Julius is probably my most straight laced boss since...ever.

Speaking of which, I better stop talking to myself and pay attention. Looks like Julius is giving another one of his motivational speeches.

"Listen up people, I got some serious shit to discuss," Since when don't you? "Yeah, we cleared out the Row, you think for a second that's gonna stop'em?" Of course not, that's what guns are for. "Unless we wipe all these muthafuckers out they gonna keep comin'. And they ain't gonna be happy. It's not gonna be settled till the Carnales, the Rollerz, _and_ the Vice Kings ain't nothing but a memory."

...Holy shit...

I take it back, Julius isn't all that special as a boss. Oh sure he's got the whole morality thing that sets him off from the rest but right now, he's just like anyone else I worked for. Ambitious, composed, charismatic and respected. I really am looking forward to his now.

Julius started to divvy up the duties to his various lieutenants. I was kinda put off by how he didn't trust me enough to apparently put down a rival gang by myself but I couldn't blame him. I guess I was more of a jack-of-all-trades than an actual hardcore button man or soldier. As my nickname from the Pack used to say, I'm a Lap Dog.

Give me a task, ANY TASK, and I'll have it done even if it requires me to do something shit crazy like walk five hundred miles blindfolded, declare war upon the national guard and hold a position for one hour or maybe even jump into a twenty feet deep pit filled with ravenous bears and fight them off with my bare hands..

(Don't tell anyone but I have actually done two of those things. The one I didn't do was the easiest.)

Enough digressing, I better pay attention.

-LDoS-

Okay, so if I got everything straight, then I have three lieutenants to see to and one boss man to show how awesome of a worker I am.

First off, we have Dex with the Los Carnales ("It's not the Los Carnales, it's just...aw fuck it."). From the limited interactions I had with Dex, I can already tell this man thinks shit through and can probably come up with about hundreds of plans to do even a simple task. I'll be proud to work for this guy. With people like Dex, you get to see a sophisticated point of view that gets added to something usually dirty and unrefined like gang warfare.

On the other hand, we have Johnny. Unlike Dex, Johnny has a more simple mindset geared towards taking down the Vice Kings. ("Bullets still kill muthafuckers, right? Doesn't get much simpler than that."). No offense against Dex or any other thinkers, but I have to say any plan of Johnny's is a plan I can instantly get behind. I mean...holy shit, he's like my brother in all but blood. Guns, knives, bats,_fists!_ Rolling with Johnny was going to _FUN_! A simple blood knight with simple taste. Just like me. A little interesting tidbit though was that Julius wanted _Troy _not Johnny on the Vice Kings.

Finally, we had Lin. This feisty chick wasn't there for my crowning moment of asskicking but I don't think my showboating would have done me any favors with her. Lin was like a mix of Dex and Johnny. She was the middle child of sorts. She still planned and thought things through like Dex, just not on his level. And with how she just cracked a dude in the mouth for making a snide comment about her state of dress ("Any other comments?"), I'll also say she can be violent like Johnny but toned down to levels lower. All in all, she was a no nonsense and full of business type of girl who had her shit straight and could get things done. And she appeared to be willing to do something as underhand as infiltrating the Rollerz to destroy them from within.

Kinda like my sister but less violent...and more covered...oh God...STEADY DOWN THE PATH BOY, DON'T GO DOWN THAT ROCKY PLAIN!

"As soon as we're done here, talk to one of these guys," Julius' voice cut through my brain damaging thoughts and I was able to meet his intense gaze, "They'll have something for you to do."

He raised his hands to all the Saints, like he was one of those guys who signaled the start of a race.

"It's our time now people, let's get this shit started."

-LDoS-

I glanced around, taking in the sights. Some people were psyched, others calm and reserved. I caught the eyes of the three gangbangers of the hour. Johnny flashed me a shit eating grin and seemed to leer at me over his shades, like a shark sizing up his meal. Dex was less expressive, going for the traditional manly acknowledge of another male with a nod and small smile. Lin stood impassively with her arms crossed over her chest and was, kinda like Johnny, sizing me up and down and seeing if I was really worth working with.

I sighed and ran a hand through my black messy hair.

I had a shit ton of work to do.

But hey, I was always the determined and motivated type.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I no owning any of this.

A lesson I was taught at an early age was that taking down the strongest opponent first was usually the best course of action. The rest of your enemies would then either submit themselves to you in fear/awe of your superiority or would be demoralized when you come aknockin' and blast their asses to pieces. It was with this in mind that I naturally decided my next course of action.

I stalked up quietly to the smart man Dex as he was silently studying a map of Stilwater. Either he has super hearing or I'm getting rusty because the guy noticed me before I got too close.

"Oh, hey man, thought I heard someone coming over. Here, come check this out."

I moved towards the board and glanced around at the various photos he had tacked on. Dex explained the history behind these red flag flying Mexican drug dealers as I stared at various gang members, buildings, and the top members of this little gang.

I listened intently to their history and paid special care to what Dex rattled off at the end of his explanation.

"A: the Lopez brothers are crazy muthafuckas, and B: Victor, their enforcer, survived a dozen VK drive-bys."

In Stilwater history, they were the oldest. And the toughest. And pretty much the gang that you didn't wanna rush into a fight with.

I smirked. This was going to be _fun_.

"We cut off their income first, and then we go for Hector. Sound good?"

*Beep*

I flashed him a small smile as his phone gave off a quick noise. Troy and Julius had been quick enough to spread around my phone number and I got a few texts and (awkward) calls in return to confirm the number. It was still shocking as hell to just be minding my own business one day after Julius' speech and then have the three lieutenants call me up randomly telling me what to get ready for.

If I could have said something, I think it would have been something along the lines of 'What the fuck' but because I don't, I opted for a quick flip off to no one. I mean sure my phone is the only way I'm going to be speaking but that doesn't mean I want everyone to be calling me all at once. Shit like that drives me crazy.

Anyways, I hope Dex is used to texting because that's how we're going to do this conversation.

Dex raised an eyebrow before he pulled out his handheld and read the text.

[Sounds great. When do we start?]

"That was a rhetorical question, but thanks for your support at least. And speak up man. Cat got your tongue or some shit? You're right in front of me, no need to text your shit."

*Beep*

"Dude, what did I just sa-

*Beep*

I cleared my throat and tapped my phone screen. He rolled his eyes before glancing at the messages. His annoyed look cleared and his eyebrows rose up.

[Sorry Dex, better get used to it.]

[It sure as hell wasn't a cat but all in all, I ain't got no vocals to use man.]

The lieutenant shot me a look but nodded in understanding.

"I gotta be honest. I think Julius might be fucking crazy to let someone like you roll with us."

*Beep*

[Screw you.]

=Later=

I cruised on through the city, fingers drumming against the steering wheel. I had just left behind the remains of two drug labs run by the Los Carnales. All in all, it went off without a hitch. Dex had Troy scope out the areas where the labs were then told me to go crazy. I just armed myself with a shotgun and trusty pistol before hailing down some unfortunate citizen. When the sucker slow down, I smashed his head into his wheel then pulled his ass out before slipping in.

I wonder if all these Carnales gang members are really this weak? I mean, I pulled up in a hijacked Compton, fired two bullets into anybody who got in my way, then set about blowing up their little drug labs. Word got around to those red shirt bastards and while contending with any persistent bastard that gave chase, I managed to get to the next area Dex marked for me quickly enough and repeat the exact same process. Hell, I didn't even bust up any part of the hijacked car I was driving.

Then again, I do consider myself an insane driver who believes traffic laws are a suggestion. I also seem to have some insane knack for timing my drives to coincide at _just the right moment_ so my pursuers end up colliding with other drivers. Then I get to happily wave bye in my rear view mirror before speeding off in the rusty hunk of crap I was driving.

Heh, all this driving reminds me of an old job. My mentor always did complain I drove too fast. Well at least I don't actively try to run people down eh?

So here I am, just calmly sipping a Big Swallow as I'm cruising sixty miles per hour with about three Los Carnales hot on my ass. Did I mention I'm not hitting anything? No? Well, there we go. Years of vehicle maintenance and demo derby taxi services have made my skills way above abnormal and into the realm of freakish. Awesome timing seems to also work in my favor as I'm barely having any followers for more than five minutes.

I can't wait to start racing those wannabe racers Rollerz and see the look on their faces when I beat their souped-up sports cars with a rundown piece of junk. It's all in the skills baby and I got a shit ton to use. It helps that years of servitude have reinforced my awesomeness. Yep, I'm such a special person.

…I'm also vocally impaired and clinically insane but so are a lot of people.

Well, people I know at least.

...

Shut up.

=Later=

I was only gone for about two to three hours when I returned to the church. I lost those Los Carnales a ways back somewhere in the Red Light District and decided to run a quick errand. I noticed that the local cuisine of this place was..._interesting_ and for some reason a lot of people took to Freckle Bitches like flies around a rather smelly and fresh pile of crap. I didn't have that much of a problem with the food itself but with the way it was marketed.

I shudder to think how those perverts with food fetishes would react when they experience the 'pleasure' of Freckle Bitches.

Anyways, back to my original line of thought. So as per usual to my duties and expectations, I went out and got lunch/dinner for some of the crew back at the church. I must have looked a sight; blood stained black T-shirt and arms laden down with bags and buckets of fresh FB's.

A couple of the guys were nice enough to quickly help me unload while the more selfish assholes just grabbed some for themselves and starting eating. It didn't really matter to me, I just wanted to make sure there was enough for everyone. In a short amount of time, everyone is either munching on something or drinking a bottle of booze or sipping from FB's soft drinks.

I see Dex in the corner with some members of his crew and get a nod of approval from him. He gestures to the gathering and does a twirl around his ear before pointing at me. I just playfully flip him the bird before snatching a cold one for myself and relax.

I should probably change soon though. Dried blood is a bitch to get out without a washing machine.

"Well well, this is a surprise. Didn't expect someone to go out and do something like this."

I looked over my shoulder at Troy and nodded towards him. I was nursing an ice cold bottle of booze and leaning back against one of the many damaged but sturdy pews of the church. Some Saints went and pulled out some tables and pushed the pews away to form an impromptu dining room for everyone. I was among the few Saints on the outside, being lone figures among the backdrop of the huge crowd. All in all, word got around fast that I was the starting point to all this and many people were grateful for the free food. I got a fair share of high-fives and fist bumps. Hell, some offered to pay for their share but I waved them off.

"Where'd you get the scratch for all this anyway?"

*Beep*

[Los Carnales are some generous people. Who knew that the drug business had so many nice people in it?]

"Fair enough. I'm not complaining or anything but didn't Dex want you to just fuck up their labs? I don't think you had to rob them too."

[And what would you have me do? Leave perfectly good stacks of green alone and do my job? Hell no, that's not how I roll. I'm going to do my job then I'm going to give an extra ten percent just because. I wasn't raised like an idiot.]

"Playa, good to see you," Julius said as he entered in from his office, "Heard about what Dex had you do and I'm glad about how you finished so soon. Keep a record time like that for everything and we'll have this city under our control within a year's time."

[Glad to please good sir.]

I smiled into my bottle. It felt good to be praised for some simple work.

I polished off the bottle with a quick gulp and then tossed it onto the ground where it cracked and dissembled into pieces. No one batted an eyelash or looked twice when I did that. I didn't really blame them, seeing as there were about already three to four cases of empty cans and other cracked bottles already there.

Man, I'll have to clean this crap up later.

=Later=

"Hello~"

That tone of voice and way of saying. It can't be!

"How ya been, you little Brat?"

But it is. My eyes stare into the darkened room and focus on the silhouette sitting at my kitchen table. Her long black hair seems to blend in with the surrounding darkness which makes it a bit freaky to see her pale skin contrast with it. The purple tinted aviators perched carefully on her head also helped to give away her position.

I roll off my crappy mattress and glare at my sister for breaking into my apartment so late at night. Granted I wasn't sleeping yet but that's besides the point! She knew I was awake and didn't knock like a normal person and instead decided a lock pick was okay to use!

"Oh quit your bitching. It's not the first time I invaded anything of yours and it obviously won't be the last."

I grumble under my breath. My older sister has that one special ability where she can read the mind of her younger sibling. I only know of a few other little brothers in the world who suffer from something similar and try to draw upon the advice they imparted on me when dealing with something like this.

"You better not be doing some stupid breathing exercise. Because if I start hearing you heaving like some oxygen starved bitch, I'll give you real reason to have trouble breathing."

You suck sis.

"No I don't. I'm awesome incarnate given form in a sexy Asian chick with a penchant for guns and violence."

Right. I roll my eyes before getting up and stretching. Lying on the crappy mattress was the same as just sleeping on the floor but at least I could emulate a futon with it. Living in Japan gave me a taste for less extravagant bedding.

"Stop talking to non-existent people and give me something to wet my whistle with. I have something important to tell you and I'm currently too sober to do it."

I grab a big ass forty out of the fridge and pop it open for me to share. I take a quick gulp straight from the top before handing it off to my sis who takes her own mouthful. I have to wait for her to finish three takes before she starts speaking again in a slur.

"So…I hear you joined up with a local gang and decided to get caught up in their little war. Why is that?"

I look to the side and she follows my gaze towards my safe.

Her eyes narrow.

"What kind of debt is it? If it's money problems, I'll geld you."

I gulp.

"Okay…so it wasn't some dumb hooker or drug deal then," She says innocently, "Then that should only leave one thing…"

I bow my head.

She lets out an 'hmm' noise and thoughtfully takes another swig of the bottle, "What happened that led to you almost getting killed? Was it those damn gang bangers in the streets?"

I nod.

"Which ones?"

My mouth creases into a thin line and my brow furrows.

"…So all three then? Or is it four? I could never tell with the people who wore purple."

I cross my hands together to form an 'X' before pointing towards her aviators.

"Ah. I see. You get caught up in a little street warfare and almost get wasted because of it. When all of a sudden, some people in purple come save your ass."

I stare at her with a displeased look.

"Hah! Your fault for leaving without a weapon. This may not be the Underworld of China or Japan anymore but that shouldn't mean anything. Danger is present everywhere Brat, always expect death around a corner. That's what we always been doing. I don't understand why you suddenly decide not to follow through on something that kept us alive for years."

I throw my hands up and stalk away. Fuck off sis, I had my reasons.

"Heh. Whatever little Brat," She says as she gets up and stretches out.

That T-shirt and pants are way too tight on her.

"You calling me fat?!" She growls suddenly.

I frantically shake my head.

"Because there's only two reasons your eyes are below head level and that's either if you're checking me out or making sure I'm not hurt. I'll be flattered if it's the first but disgusted and I'm careful than you ever will be if it's the second case so watch those eyes Mister!"

I nod vigorously.

"That's what I thought Brat," She says as she steps forward and wrestles me into a headlock.

"Keep your nose clean and head up, Brat. Some of the Wolves are going to visit."

I stop struggling and freeze.

"Don't worry, I'll keep things on the DL if you can keep yourself out of any real trouble."

I gulp, trying to close the heavy pit in my stomach. I always had fears of disappointing them and with the news of them arriving here soon, I'm starting to PANIC THE FUCK OH GOD I'M GOING TO-

"Bah, you worry too much," My sis says as her grip tightens to keep me still, "C'mon, relax."

I feel a suddenly tug on my neck before my eyes start to droop. My sister's grip softens a bit and I slump against her, body refusing to obey.

"Shh…don't worry. Just relax~"

The last thing I hear is my sister humming an old lullaby before I succumb to sleep.

=1 Hour Later=

I fucking hate the sound of birds. Little chirpy bastards with their chirp chirp shit.

Oh…man, my freaking neck is killing me. I hate how my Sis does that sometimes. Shit always gives me a stiff neck and makes me cranky.

It also stopped being effective at putting me to sleep a long time ago. My sis always did want to protect me and shield me from things she didn't think I should be seeing so she learned this little trick about pressure points and how to hit that one little hot spot to knock someone out.

After that, every time something was going down that she didn't want me involved with or to see, she knocked me out as quickly and gently as she could with that.

But too bad she never learned I grew immune to that shit years ago.

Sigh, now I'm never going to get any sleep. My neck is too firm for any proper rest.

Fuck it, the night life is young. Mind as well explore the territories I'll probably be fighting for in the near future.

=Chinatown=

It's freezing outside and the sky is black as ink and littered with stars.

Doesn't convince ANY of the dozens of people out here tonight in a street race to pack up and go home.

I shuffle among the crowd, making extra sure to hide my purple undershirt. Thankfully, I still had my black jacket so I could at least pass off as a bystander. Still, I was dangerously close to some of the Saint's enemies.

A sea of Blue as far as the eye can see. And I'm not talking about liquid, I'm talking about gang members.

Westside Rollerz are everywhere tonight and it seems they're hosting the whole damn event.

I grimace. The Compton I stole eventually died (exploded due to boredom) on me and I had to ditch it. Apparently you carjack one man in this city and suddenly the cops decide to crack down on all 'suspicious' looking pedestrians. Thus, it's a hell lot harder to get my hands on any vehicle without those damn law pigs breathing down my neck.

Troy assured me that this was normal thing that the Stilwater LAPD did sometimes. He admitted how a bunch of the Saints, including him, had been busted before by cops because they tried to get a quick ride home. It was due to that incident that Troy decided to get his own set of wheels. I didn't even have enough cash currently to even think about buying a new gun!

It was then that Johnny popped into the conversation and told me to take all my fucks and bury them. If you needed a ride, then you just go and take one. Dex, who apparently decided this was the most interesting conversation in the world and also hopped in, then pointed out that Johnny had no right to say anything seeing as he had his own car.

I just folded my arms and scowled. Bastards and their self-owned cars.

Anyways, back to the race…

…Which apparently ended and started in my entire thought musing. Well great, I just missed out on some quality entertainment. I palm my face in frustration. Lost in thought for God knows how long and thus I miss a race. Either these were some fast drivers or I was thinking for way too long. I turned to weave my way past the crowds and leave.

Until I heard the shouting.

There was a commotion at the finish line and my eyes shot wide open when I realized that our Saint undercover, Lin, was being slowly surrounded by a bunch of angry looking drivers.

All of them were men to boot.

My eyes narrowed and I debated whether to break out the Vice 9 I had stashed in my left pants pocket. I could start shooting and scare away the other racers but I don't know how the Rollerz would react to seeing someone pull out a gun and start shooting. Hell, I think some of the aggressors are Rollerz too!

Crap…what do I do? Stay on the DL and possibly watch a Saint Lieutenant get beaten or jump in and risk getting involved with Rollerz way earlier than I should?

My worries seemed to be misplaced…at first.

Lin was holding her own, punching and kicking like a true brawling champ. That woman didn't take shit from anyone and it showed. I inched closer to the conflict and shot an accusing stare around. Apparently none of the other onlookers wanted to get in and help one poor woman against a gang of men. It was then one of the fighters snuck up on Lin and grabbed her from behind.

I growled. Fuck it. I pushed past two people and walked over to the main group where one big muscled idiot was shouting at the struggling Lin.

"Hah, not so tough now are ya you stupid bit-"

The bastard didn't get to finish his sentence as I decked him right in the face. He was sent reeling back into his group of buddies as I shook out my fist.

"Hey, who the fuck are you?"

I just regarded the entire group with a sneer before cracking my knuckles loudly. I settled into a brawling stance and got ready to kick some ass.

"Yo, shoot this fool!"

Oh crap.

I rolled to the side and huddled behind a car as people screamed and ran. Apparently all the racers were packing heat and now decided to break them out. I saw Lin had broken free sometime before my little 'hero' moment and disappeared so I was left to contend with about eight guys shooting at me.

I just sighed before pulling out my Vice 9.

My current cover was a double edge sword. It provided decent enough protection to last me a wave of bullets but eventually it would blow from all the abuse. So I had to make my shots count and move.

The hail of gunfire lulled as all of them started to reload at once. I popped out and flashed some of those idiots a grin before plugging two of them in the chest. Apparently these thugs weren't expecting opposition and thus became disoriented as they scrambled for cover. I managed to catch another guy in the back as he fled before ducking back down into cover.

I quickly reloaded my own gun before closing my eyes and focusing. I didn't have enough time to concentrate fully and the periodic 'PING' and 'DING' noise as bullets collided with the car I was huddled behind did little to help. I eventually noticed a plume of black smoke start to drift out from the front engine and I panicked.

I shot up and fired blindly behind me as I ran for another car. I had just reached the trunk end when a bullet caught me in the left shoulder. I let out a soundless cry of pain before tripping over my own feet and ended up having to crawl into cover.

The game had now changed. These were veteran bangers who had fought street warfare before and thus managed to work out a basic strategy. Some fired at me before pausing to let the rest fire to cover the guys reloading. It was a basic tactic but it was working when it was just one versus seven or six. My situation was made even worse when I realized that not only was I slowly bleeding out, but some of them were advancing on me.

I let out a raspy gasp before deciding it was better to run now then risk everything. I was in no condition to fight and I was already at the disadvantage from the beginning. The least I could do was flee and return better armed and equipped next time.

I growled. I hated it when there has to be a next time.

With a grunt of exertion, I managed to wrench the car door I was hiding behind open and crawl inside while the bullets continued to hit where I was. I managed to creep over into the driver's seat with my head down. Luckily, the keys were still in the ignition so I revved it up and grinned evilly when the engine kicked into action.

Deciding that I mind as well leave an impression, I elbowed my window open and emptied my entire clip into any poor bastard that wasn't behind cover. When the firearm clicked empty, I grunted before shifting gears and slammed down on the pedal.

My windshield had already been peppered with gunshots and thus was a messy spider-web of cracks. I never let something so unimportant like vision impair me before and just drove off blindly in a random direction.

It was at least another two to four hours before I finally returned to my horrible apartment. Losing the pursuers had been the hard part which was compounded by gunfire and blood loss. The rest of the time was spent trying to find a doctor who was open late enough to treat me. I got lucky when I stumbled into an ER and got the quickest operation I ever had in my life. Cost me a pretty penny but I'll get it back later.

Then I walked back outside to see my stolen car had been towed.

Bastards.

An uneventful trip home on foot later, I collapsed into my bed and sighed.

What an eventful night. My first real run-in with a rival gang had made me overconfident and reckless. I took on the Los Carnales just fine because they weren't expecting any attack and thus had no proper defenses set up. I was dealing with one to three gangbangers at the most and a quick bullet ended those threats. Their chasers were poorly armed and didn't stand a chance against my lucky and timing based driving but that was because I was dicking around like an idiot. In a real car chase, I would have probably ended up killing myself.

Now when I got involved with another gang, I was ill-prepared and under armed while going against overwhelming odds.

Seeing as it was par for the course for me since I was in junior high, that's probably while I'm still breathing and not lying dead in a pool of my own blood. I jumped in irrationally and expected a fist fight, not a gun fight. I was trying to act tough and help out another Saint but instead I just made a fool out of myself that probably would have been killed if I was any less experienced.

I sighed. My sis was right, I have been slacking. I am a disappointment and treating this place like a Paradise after my romps through Hell.

Fuck, this is more like Purgatory.

My phone rumbled in my pocket and I sluggish pulled it out. It was Troy. I debated whether to answer or not but the buzzing stopped before I could fully decide. My little nocturnal adventure had eaten up enough time that there was sunshine coming in through my filthy window. I sighed the sigh of the damned.

I barely got any sleep, am slightly doped up, and possibly have to put myself in danger once more today. Do I act like a rational person and take the day off or play the daredevil and get the fuck up?

Decisions, decisions.

Screw it, better get up and get ready. Julius told me that there was still work to be done and I can't just lounge around all day like a lazy fat bulldog.

And if I'm anything, I'm a Lap Dog.


End file.
